THREE OH FIVE
by SANDEFUR
Summary: More of my imaginary third season. Sequel to #304.


THREE OH FIVE

By SANDEFUR

9-22-05/early Thursday morning

This episode opens moments before the end of the last one. Joan and Dr. Hunter are on opposite sides of the fence that divides their yards. Joan speaks…

"Dr. Hunter, I have something to tell you. Your brother speaks with God. I don't mean prayer. I mean he clearly sees, hears and talks with God."

"Interesting, and how do you know this, Joan?"

"Because…because I also speak with God."

"At last the truth comes out. This little charade comes to an end."

Joan begins to look alarmed.

A voice calls out, "Dr. Hunter!"

Joan and John Hunter both look in the direction of Kevin's voice. He rolls up the Hunter's driveway.

"Good morning, sir. Am I too early?"

"Not at all. I've already begun practicing."

"Kevin, what are you doing over there?"

"I saw Dr. Hunter practicing archery yesterday, and it looked interesting. Did you know wheelchair archers and the able-bodied compete side-by-side?"

Dr. Hunter nods. "It's true, and they do quite well. I invited Kevin over this morning to try out the equipment."

"Am I interrupting anything? Joan, you're usually not up this early. Are you bugging our neighbor for free counseling?"

"Of course not, and I don't need counseling!"

"Joan, you and I can finish our talk at another time. Agreed?"

"Looking forward to it." Joan smiles broadly, but when she turns around, the smile disappears. As she heads for the house, she mutters, "What have I done?"

X X X X X

At that moment in Will and Helen's bedroom, Will is sleeping peacefully, but Helen is obviously dreaming. Transition into Helen's dream… She is on the garden terrace of a European style mansion. Helen is dressed in a 19th century style ball gown, and is waltzing with a masked man in a military dress uniform. Helen laughs with joy as they swirl about to the music. When the music stops, he holds her tightly.

Helen murmurs, "Kiss me, my love."

The man kisses her passionately, and she responds with moans of pleasure. He removes his mask, revealing that he is Ryan Hunter. Transition back to the bedroom… Helen is still dreaming and still making small sounds of pleasure.

"Helen? Helen, are you having a nightmare?"

Helen comes gently awake, smiling. "I was dreaming."

"A good dream?"

"Very good, and a bit erotic."

"Oh really? Was I in it?"

"Uh, of course. We were dancing in the moonlight, and you kissed me passionately."

"I keep forgetting that men and women have different definitions of erotic."

"Kiss me, my love and I will show you just how erotic I can be."

"Oh yeah? Do we have time?"

"We will make time."

They begin to kiss and caress.

X X X X X

Later that morning at Arcadia High, Joan is at her locker getting books for class. She overhears a nearby conversation.

Coach Keating says, "Mr. Hunter, good to have you back."

Dylan replies, "It's good to be back, Coach."

"I take it you won't be joining us in A.P.T. with that cane."

"No ma'am. In fact, here's my doctor's note excusing me from Advanced Physical Training."

"Hmm, it says you're excused the rest of this week and next. Basketball try outs are next Friday. No extensions and no exceptions."

"I'll be there Coach. I promise."

"Yes, but in what condition?"

"I won't kid you Coach, I won't be able to bring my 'A' game, but I'll do my best. Just remember, I'll be getting better through the season."

"I like your attitude Mr. Hunter, but I won't play favorites."

"Understood ma'am."

With a curt nod, Coach Keating strides away.

"Joan, you can stop pretending not to eavesdrop."

An angry Joan turns to face Dylan. "Were you speaking to me, Mr. Hunter? After such a long gap, I'm surprised you remember my name."

"Joan, why are you mad at me?"

"Mad? Why should I be mad? We went on a date, which admittedly ended badly, but then you don't call for nearly two weeks! Now you want to act like everything is fine? Well, it isn't."

"Wait, we spoke on the phone—twice."

"Briefly, and I made both calls. Each time I asked if I could come over, and you said 'No'."

"O course I did. I was recovering from painful injuries and would have made lousy company."

"I wouldn't have cared about that. I just wanted to reconnect with you. I thought we got off to a good start, but I misjudged you."

"What does that mean?"

"Didn't you notice the media circus that was in front of my house for two days? Didn't you hear about the trauma my family endured?"

"Of course I did. The whole country heard about the hanged man found in the house of the chief of police of Arcadia."

"And it didn't occur to you that I could use a shoulder to cry on, or a friendly voice to offer comfort?"

"I tried to call, but I couldn't get through."

"Well you didn't try very hard. I also have a cell phone, e-mail and you live next door. If you had shouted out the window, I would have heard it, but no, you had too much pride."

"Pride? How have I been prideful?"

"By hiding in your house until all the swelling and bruises faded. That's where I misjudged you. I didn't realize you were just another pretty-boy whose number one concern is the image he shows the world."

"That's what you think of me? That I'm full of vain pride?"

"It finally sinks in. And say, since I know you like bible quotes so much, see if you remember this one: Pride goeth before a fall."

Joan kicks the cane out of Dylan's hand, turns and hurries off. Dylan sways off-balance for a few moments, but doesn't fall. He recovers his cane and follows Joan. As Dylan turns the corner, he hesitates. He sees Joan further down the hallway talking with a handsome boy in a corduroy coat…

Joan says, "I guess you're going to tell me I was wrong."

Cute Boy God replies, "Kicking the cane out of his hand was a bit over the line."

"I know, and I'm sorry, but it really seemed to go well with the quote."

"Except that he didn't fall. Besides, you botched the quotation. A better one might have been: A man's pride shall bring him low."

"Hah! I knew this was about his pride."

"I didn't say his pride."

"What, me?"

"Only by pride cometh contention."

"What's with all the scriptures?"

"You started it. Just consider that your own bruised ego is why you're angry."

"Well, he did hurt my feelings."

"If you explain that in a kinder way than kicking his cane, Dylan might open up and explain himself."

"So if I'm considerate of his ego, he will be considerate of mine?"

The first bell rings.

"As ye sow, so shall ye reap." Cute Boy God says as he begins walking away.

"Okay, that's going to get old really fast."

Cute Boy God gives the backhand wave. Joan turns and hurries to class.

X X X X X

In the biology classroom, as the students take their seats, a new teacher stands by the overhead projector. He is a tall, muscular man of about thirty years, and he has an unkind face. The second bell rings.

"Class come to order. I am Edgar Heugel, your new AP Biology teacher. I will be filling in for the rest of the year while your regular teacher is on medical leave."

Joan raises her hand.

"I am not taking questions."

Joan lowers her hand.

"According to the notes left for me, you had Chapter 6 on ecosystems as your assigned reading. Therefore, you should be prepared for a pop quiz."

As Heugel says this, the class groans while Dylan limps into the room. He heads for his usual spot.

"Quiet! This is a closed book test and there will be no talking. Ten questions, ten minutes."

Heugel turns on the overhead projector and the questions appear. He then consults a seating chart.

"You, Mister…Hunter. You were tardy. Go to the office for a late slip."

"I was late sir, because of my injury."

"No Mr. Hunter, you were late because you didn't allow enough travel time. If you had chosen to spend less time socializing in the hallways, then you wouldn't be on your way to the office."

"But sir, I'll miss the test."

"Which will teach you one valuable lesson for today. Your actions have consequences. Go, Mr. Hunter."

An aggrieved Dylan limps from the class. As he does, Friedman whispers to Joan…

"What a fascist."

Heugel consults the seating chart again. "You in the corner, Mr. Friedman. Was I unclear about the no talking part?"

"Uh, no sir."

"Then you may as well tear up your paper. You have earned an automatic 'F'."

"That's unfair!"

"If you wish to debate the point, you can do so in after school detention"

Friedman shakes his head.

"Very well. The rest of you have eight minutes left."

An intimidated class stares at their test papers.

X X X X X

At that moment in New York City, Lily is pacing the 15th floor hallway of a luxurious condominium. Nervously, she knocks at an apartment door. Moments later, it is opened by Vivian Waters, a slender, handsome woman in her early fifties.

"Yes, may I help you?"

"Mom, it's me."

"Lily? Oh my God, it is you!"

The pair share a quick embrace.

"Oh my dear girl, it's so good to see you again. Come in, come in. I'm so glad you're here."

They enter the apartment and settle on a living room couch.

"It's good to see you again too, Mom. I wasn't sure… I mean considering how things were between us…"

"Oh please, that was a decade ago, and no matter how bad it was, joining the convent certainly ended all those hard feelings."

"It's just that I made life so hard for you and Dad."

"Well, you're teen year were a bit of hell-on-earth, but it all worked out for the best. You found your way back to God, and you set such an appalling example for your kid sisters, they all became determined to stay on the straight and narrow."

"Glad I could help." Lily says with heavy sarcasm.

"So tell me, what brings you here all the way from California? Are you on some sort of sabbatical? And where's your habit? Don't tell me your convent has gone modern and done away with them?"

"Actually Mom, that's one of the things I wanted to talk about with you and Dad. You see, I've left the convent."

"What? Oh no!"

"Mom, it's not that bad."

"No, of course not, dear. It's just…oh, this is such a silly and vain thought."

"What is it, Mom?"

"Now don't get me wrong. I love your sisters very much, but Marian, Susan and Tracy are all leading such dull, predictable lives. You were the only one of my children who was…Interesting. I've always loved telling people about my daughter the ex teen rebel who is now a nun."

Lily laughs. "That cracks me up. All this time I imagined you were hiding my existence because I was the black sheep of the family."

"Oh but dear, it's always the 'black sheep' that people love to hear about. So, when did all of this come about, and are you sure you won't be going back?"

"I've been out nearly two years."

"Two years! But the letters we exchanged? Where have you been all this time?"

"In Arcadia. I arranged for a friend in the convent to handle my mail while I tried to get my head straight. For the longest time I wasn't certain if I would go back or not."

"But now you're sure?"

Lily pulls a couple of photos from her pocket. She hands a head-shot of Kevin to her mother.

"His name is Kevin Girardi, and he's a reporter for the Arcadia Herald. He's asked me to marry him."

"What a handsome young man, and I do mean young."

"He's eight years younger than me."

"Eight years…"

"And here's the rest of the story."

Lily hands over the second photo which shows Kevin in his wheelchair. Vivian gasps.

"He was in a car accident and is permanently paralyzed from the waist down."

Vivian pauses. "Well, I'll say this about you Lily, you're still my most interesting child."

Lily laughs, and after a moment, Vivian begins to chuckle too.

X X X X X

Back in Arcadia, in the police chief's office, Will is being interviewed by Sheila Lebowitz, a magazine reporter.

"So Chief, no new leads on Paul Atwell's partner?"

"Not yet, but these two men have been operating in the Arcadia area for months. With Atwell's picture being so widely distributed, someone is bound to make the connection."

"You are still operating under the theory that this is a matter of anti-religion zealotry?"

"Absolutely. Their pattern of activity has been established for months."

"Some say there is also a pattern of racial bias in Arcadia."

"How so?"

"The only African-American member of the city council is wounded and has to leave office. He is then replaced by Rabbi Aaron Polansky, which leaves the black 25 percent of the city's population without representation."

"As I understand it, Reverend Washington personally recommended Rabbi Polansky as his replacemenrt on the council. It is, after all, merely an interim council until the next city election."

"And what about you, Chief? On the night of the shootings, you went first to the scene of the attack on your rich, white friend and only later to the scene where a black minister had been wounded."

"I've explained this in previous interviews. I was at home when I was informed about the attack on Reverend Washington. It was while this discussion was going on that the report of the attack on Councilman Hunter came in. I immediately ordered police protection for all members of the council. Since there was already an investigative team at the first shooting, and since I live much closer to the scene of the second shooting, that's where I went. Race was never a factor in that decision."

"Was your wife's presence at the second shooting a factor?"

Will hesitates before answering. "How did you hear of that?"

"Too many people at the Herald knew the truth. It was bound to come out. Do you consider it appropriate for the chief of police and a city councilman to conspire to keep your wife's name out of this story?"

"It was hardly a conspiracy. My wife was severely traumatized by the events of that evening. For the sake of her health, Mr. Hunter and I agreed she should be spared the pressure of media attention."

"Is that the real reason, or was it to cover up something more scandalous?"

"What do you mean?"

"My source at the Herald says there have been several late-night clandestine meetings between Mr. Hunter and your wife. The rumor is, they are having an affair."

"Of all the small-minded, petty gossip... My wife is an artist and she has been commissioned to paint Mr. Hunter's portrait. With my full knowledge, they have been meeting at night for that purpose."

"But won't such a rumor be a distraction from the investigation?"

"Then the best thing would be putting an end to the rumor. Just as this interview is at an end."

"But Chief..."

Will goes to the door and calls out to his secretary, "Jean, you can send in my next appointment."

Ms Lebowitz goes to the doorway. She shrugs and exits.

X X X X X

Back at Arcadia High, between classes, Joan spots Dylan near the school offices.

"Dylan, hi."

Dylan takes a step back and grips his cane firmer.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for the things I said, and especially for what I did."

"How do I know this isn't a trick to catch me off guard?"

"Trust me. I admit my feelings were hurt, but that's no excuse for not letting you explain."

"I would like to talk things over--privately."

"Truce?"

"Well, okay. You know, you botched that quotation."

"So I've been told. How does it go?"

"Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall."

"Wow, no wonder people shorten that."

A bell rings.

"Well, I've got to get to study hall."

"Not so fast, Miss Girardi."

Joan is startled by Gavin Price's sudden appearance.

Joan complains, "Geez, we need to put a bell on you."

"But sneaking up on students is half the fun of my job, Joan. No study hall today. You are to report to the counselor's office for a meeting with the district psychiatrist."

"I've been expecting this."

"As have I, for years. Run along Miss Girardi."

"Bye Dylan."

Joan heads for the office as the second bell rings.

"And you, Mr. Hunter, late for class again?"

"Yes, it seems you told all my teachers that the tardy procedure was to be followed to the letter. No exceptions, no excuses."

"We can't be playing favorites, now can we?"

"Even though established procedure is to give injured students extra time between classes?"

"A tradition, but not an offical rule. Collect three of those late slips in one day and you get automatic detention, Mr. Hunter."

"Since I'm headed into the office for my second late slip, perhaps I'll pop in and say 'Hi' to my Dad."

"Feel free. Your father is not one of my bosses."

"No, but he is well above you in the school heirarchy. A word in the ear of the right person could have a devastating effect on a vice-principal's career hopes."

Price looks carefully about to be certain they are alone. He lowers his voice. "Listen to me you litttle snot, you made me back down once, but that will not happen again. You may think you're immune, but you're not. It's a long year, and I'll have plenty of opportunities to strictly enforce the rules on you. Remember, I have the power."

Price is surprised to see Dylan smile. "I know what you did."

"What do you mean?"

"When the Crowe brothers beat me up for praying with their sister Melanie, I couldn't help wondering who had told them of it. There were only four of us who knew about that moment of prayer. Joan and I didn't say anything. Melanie swears she didn't mention it. In fact she spent the night at a friend's house and never even saw her brothers. That leaves just you."

"You have no proof."

"I have witnesses who will swear that right after our confrontation in the parking lot, you went to the detention room and spoke with Joey Crowe in the hallway. When he returned to the detention room, he was in an agitated state. You provoked a violent attack on a student."

"This...is all circumstantial."

"Maybe you haven't heard. It seems the Crowe brothers have experienced an old-fashioned jailhouse conversion. They've got religion just oozing out of them. If we ask Joey Crowe, he will rat you out faster than you can say, 'Hallelujah'!"

A nervous Gavin Price wipes sweat from his brow. "What do you want?"

"You can start by taking out your pad and writing the following: Due to his injuries, Dylan Hunter is excused from the tardy procedures until further notice. Then sign it."

Price completes the note and hands it over.

Dylan lowers his voice. "Now listen to me. You are completely vulnerable. It's a long year and I've already grown tired of your pettiness. When it comes to the rules, you will be very lax around me and my friends. Remember, I have the power."

"Is...is that all?"

Dylan smiles and limps away.

X X X X X

Meanwhile, Joan is just entering the counselor's office...

"Hello Dr. Hunter, whatever could you want to speak to me about?" (Joan closes ther door.) "So what's ther deal, Doc? I was straight with you. Are you going to do the same?"

"Yes, it's time to put all our cards on the table. Tell me Joan, when did you first start talking to God?"

"A couple of months before my 16th birthday, and I know Ryan started when he was aroung 14."

"He shared this with you?"

"Yes, in private conversations he has been very open about his relationship with God. What I don't know is how you fit into all of this."

"What do you want to know?"

"Ever since I met you, you've been using the same phrases that God has spoken to me. 'I've got your back.' 'Be neighborly.' 'Out of your shell.' And so on. This can't be a coincidence. Do you speak to God also?"

"Not in the sense that you and Ryan do. Since I was about your age I've experienced visions of things that are about to happen. I also have frequent dreams where God speaks to me and show me things that ned to be done."

"I remember Dylan said you often help people in small ways that seem to have a big impact on their lives. Does he know about all of this?"

"No, I've only shared this secret with Ryan, my late wife, and now you. I've been watching Dylan during his teen years to see if he has the gift, but so far he doesn't."

"Why would you expect this 'gift' in him?"

"From my research into this subject, I've found that it sometimes runs in families."

"It does? Wait, my Mom once told me of a dream where she spoke with Cute Boy God."

"Cute Boy God?"

"I see God in many variations. There are some that reappear to me on a regulat basis, and others I only encounter once. Whenever I meet someone new, I never know whether or not he or she will turn out to be God. To keep them all straight in my head, I've taken to labeling them."

"And 'Cute Boy God' is one of them?"

"Actually, he is the first one I ever encountered, and from time to time, I still speak with him. Today, in fact."

"Amazing. And you say your mother has also dreamed of this Cute Boy God?"

"About a year and a half ago, but she hasn't mentioned any other such dreams."

"She may be keeping them secret, or they may only rarely come to her. It depends on how diligently she has developed her gift."

"Developed? Isn't it a matter of just having it or not?"

"Many people have this gift, but few exercise the the faith and obedience necessary to develop it. They remain closed to the possibilites, and dismiss everything as mere dreams and odd coincidences."

"But not you?"

"For some reason, I knew from the start God was speaking to me in my dreams and I have always acted on those assignments. As I did this, the frequency of the dreams and visions increased."

"Have you ever seen him in person?"

"Just once. That day in your backyard when he showed up with all of those dogs. He gave me a brief hand signal to stay where I was. It took all of my willpower not to fall on my knees before him."

"I thought you looked pretty shook up that day. So, is Dog Walker God the only version you know?"

"Yes, in all my dreams he is the only version I've seen. Although, not as 'Dog Walker'. (I'll never get use to that nomenclature.) He always appears in biblical style robes and I call him Lord."

"God once told me that I see him as I want to see him. Maybe that's why you see him as 'Lord'. So, is this why you came to Arcadia? Because God told you to?"

"Yes. In a dream he showed me the house I was to buy, the job I was suppose to take and an image of you. He told me to have your back."

"Then you are here as an ally? To help me bring Ryan down?"

"Miss Girardi, speaking as a psychiatrist, if you believe that then you're nuts. I'm not here to harm my brother. I'm here to help him."

Joan stares speechless at Dr. Hunter.

X X X X X

Not far away in the art classroom, several items are on a central table, including a bowl of fruit and a vase of flowers. The beginner's drawing class is busy sketching the items. Dylan enters.

Helen says, "Dylan, you're late."

"Yes ma'am. Limping with this cane has slowed me down considerably."

"I'm really sorry, but you will have to go to the office for a late slip."

Dylan smiles and hands over the note from Price. "Fortunately, I have a get-out-of-jail-free card."

Helen reads the note and hands it back. "I'll never understand that man. First he makes a big fuss about there being no exemptions to the tardy rules, and then he writes an exemption. Alright Dylan, take you seat and choose one of the items on the table to sketch."

Dylan takes his seat and Helen goes about the room examining each student's sketch work. She pauses when she gets to Glynis.

Helen whispers, "Glynis, may I have a word with you in private?"

Glynis rises and follows Helen to the doorway--out of earshot of the rest of the students.

"Is there a problem with my work, Mrs. Girardi?"

"Not at all. In fact, your sketches have become the best in the class."

"Thank you. I've been geting private tutoring from Adam Rove."

"Which is what I wanted to talk to you about. Adam has handed in his preliminary drawings for the portrait assignment in the advanced art class. I see you are now his model."

"Yes, we are helping each other. He tutors me for this class, and I pose for him."

"Glynis, it's a nude painting!"

"Yes, an homage to Botticelli. Won't the school allow it? It's a famous work of art, and all the uh, 'naughty bits' are covered."

"That's the same phrase Adam used. No, I've already cleared the piece with Chadwick. What I'm concerned about Glynis is you. These portraits will be publicly displayed. Do yourealize the attention this will stir?"

"Absolutely. That very attention is why I chose 'Birth of Venus'. I greatly desire to shake up this school's perception of me."

"It will certainly do that. I just hope you're prepared for the sort of attention you will be getting."

"Eighteen year old girls aren't much concerned with the old-fashioned idea of reputation. Anyway, nothing inappropriate has occured between Adam and me. We have a strictly professional artist/model relationship."

"Well I hope it all works out the way you want. Adam is doing a wonderful job, and you look stunning."

"Thank you, Mrs. Girardi."

"You may return to your sketchwork."

Glynis nods and returns to her desk. Helen murmurs to herself, "I wonder how Joan will react?"

X X X X X

Back in the counselor's office...

"Ryan is evil!"

"Did God say that?"

"Not exactly, but he burned down a synagogue and vandalized a church!"

"The police say that man Atwell and his unknown partner were responsible for those crimes."

"You sound like you're on his side."

"I am. My brother, no matter what he may have done, is still my brother. My primary concern is his well-being and the fate of his immortal soul."

"And what if God tells you to oppose Ryan?"

"I...would obey and trust that God knows best. However, he has not so instructed me. I have been in daily prayer for Ryan, asking for God's mercy and for his help in saving Ryan from the disastrous course he is on."

"Then you do know how far into the dark spectrum he is. Don't you think it's too late to save him?"

"With God's help, nothing is impossible."

"God told me that by his consistent choices, Ryan has tipped the natural balance. I am to act as his counter-balance."

"Then you have an awesome responsibility, and if God orders me to do so, I will be by your side. Without that divine command, I must oppose you in any attempt to harm my brother."

"No matter what he does?"

"I'm not turning a blind eye to Ryan's faults. Especially the family trait of a mean streak."

"What does that mean?"

"My father was a man who would crush anyone who seriously opposed him. As a religous man, this was something he struggled against all his life. Ryan inherited this trait to a much greater degree, and in recent years, he has completely given in to this tendency."

"And you Dr. Hunter, do you have a mean streak?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to say. I do my best to keep it under control, just like Dylan, but from time to time it appears."

"Dylan can be mean?"

"Anyone can be mean, but with the Hunter men, it's not smart to cross us."

"So where does that leave us?"

"We obey God and hope we end up as allies and not enemies."

"I know I'm on the right side."

"You're very young, Joan. You still see everything in absolutes of black and white. Consider Ryan's story. Traumatized at 14 by his family being split apart, and his respected father revealed to be a hypocrite in an adulterous affair. Everything Ryan trusted and relied on was taken from him."

"He had God."

"At 14, Ryan also saw the world in black and white. To him our father was a total villain, and our mother was a spotless saint. Neither view was true, but Ryan's mind was set. After the divorce, our father married the woman he had been with. She's a good woman who made my father very happy. Our mother had a hard time in the years that followed. She was never good with money and squandered her settlement. She began to drink heavily, and then became very ill. She died a slow, lingering death."

"That's so tragic."

"A tragedy that destroyed Ryan's faith in a kind and just God. His life has been in a spiritual and moral decline ever since."

"Okay, I get it. Ryan didn't just spring up out of nowhere as a monster. He has a back story, and it's a sympathetic one. But you know, my Dad is a cop. He has to arrest people all the time, and many of them have led sad lives. No matter how sympathetic their back story may be, they are still responsible for their actions. Ryan's ultimate judgement is in the hands of God, but in the here and now, I'm responsible for stopping him. Don't get in my way! You don't know what a mean streak is until you've crossed a Girardi."

Joan turns and exits.

X X X X X

Midday. In dowtown Arcadia, in an exclusive restaurant filled with high-powered business types, Will and Ryan are served drinks by an attractive waitress. She smile flirtatously at Ryan before leaving.

"Are you having an affair with my wife?"

Ryan sputters into his drink. "Will?"

"Because that's the rumor going around the Herald."

"Who told you this?"

"A magazine reporter. She found out that Helen was with you the night of the shooting. From there she dug up a not too secret rumor of a tryst between you and Helen. I must say, I'm not happy to hear that my wife's name is being smeared this way."

"Will, please tell me you don't believe a word of this."

"Not for a minute. I trust you as a friend, and more importantly, I utterly trust my wife."

"That relieves my mind. You know my family history--how my parent's marriage was destroyed by my father's adulterous affair. There is nothing that makes me angrier or more disgusted than adultery. I would never seduce a married woman, and that goes double for the wife of a friend. Besides..."

Ryan noticeably hesitaes.

"Besides what?"

"Perhaps I shouldn't say."

"Now you've got me curious. Besides?"

Ryan sighs. "Besides, I'm use to dating women in their twenties, not their forties."

Will laughs. "Oh that's rich. Helen will get a kick out of that."

Ryan is aghast. "You wouldn't repeat that, would you? I didn't mean to be insulting. Helen is a...handsome woman."

"For an old broad?"

"Now you're putting words in my mouth."

Will laughs again. "Relax, I'm just yanking your chain. I'd never repeat that to Helen. For one thing, I don't duck as fast as I use to."

Ryan breathes a sigh of relief. "You really had me going there. But Will, I truly am sorry for any distress this may cause you or Helen. Lately, it seems all I do is bring pain and unpleasantness into your lives."

"It's not your fault. People just tend to think the worse."

"I'm not naive. I knew such rumors were a possibility, so I had my secretary, Mrs. Burke, stay as chaperone during the portrait sessions. But not even that was enough to still wagging tongues. I must confess I did hear this rumor a couple of days ago. I tried to squelch it, but you know what gossipmongers are like. The more you deny there's a fire, the more they swear they smell smoke."

"I appreciate your efforts anyway."

"If there was one thing I never wanted associated with my name, it's adultery."

"I know how you feel. I don't often share this with people, but my parents divorced when I was six because my old man cheated on my mother. He later married the other woman."

"Amazing. The same as me."

"Except they had a child, my half-brother Richard, who got all the love, attention and things I was denied."

"I take it you don't get along well with Richard?"

"We're about as close as you are with your brother."

"Ouch, that's rough. I know it was painful when Father left us, but not as painful as when John chose his side over Mother's."

"There was no chance of reconciliation?"

"John tried several times, but Mother could never forgive him. When Mother became ill, he sent his wife and son to visit. Dylan was four at the time, and Mother instantly fell in love with her only grandchild. I must admit I grew fond of him too. Mother might have relented for Dylan's sake, but her illness was too advanced. She died shortly after their visit."

"I'm sorry. So, what was Dr. Hunter's wife like?"

"Sylvia? A tedious woman. One of those obnoxiously religious people who can't carry on the simplest conversation without tossing in prayer, praise or preaching. I was not sorry to see her go."

"I know the type. They drive people away from religion in droves."

Ryan raises his glass and Will follows suit. Ryan says, "May we be spared overly religious women."

They clink glasses. The elderly restaurant hostess approaches. It is Old Lady God...

"Gentlemen, is everything to your satisfaction?"

Will replies, "Everything is fine."

Ryan says, "Good Lord, are you still working at your age?"

"I quite enjoy my work, sir."

"Some people just don't know when to retire."

"Nevertheless, I have a message for Chief Girardi. Chief, one of your men is at the front door, and he wishes to speak with you."

Will looks across the restaurant and spots Sgt. Carlisle near the maitre'd's stand. He is grabbing mints from a bowl.

"If you will excuse me?" Will says before heading over to Carlisle.

When he is gone, Old Lady God says, "You need to cut it out."

"Cut out what?" Ryan asks.

"What you've been doing to Helen Girardi."

"Wait a minute, Old-Timer. You know everything I said to Will is true. I would never seduce his wife."

"No, but you have been flirting with her outrageously."

"I flirt with a lot of women. I rarely mean anything by it."

"But Helen is entering a hormonally difficult time. Your flattery and attention has confused her."

"I am not concerned with the woman's pre-menopausal state or her fantasies. If it bothers you, then you deal with it."

"Very well, I shall."

Will returns to the table. "I have to run. We have a new lead, and I want to act on it quickly."

"Keep me informed?"

"Of course."

Will hurries away. Old Lady God and Ryan exchange hard glances before she too walks away.

X X X X X

Meanwhile, in the parking lot of Arcadia High, Dylan and Joan are sharing a sack lunch in the back of his minivan.

"It's not as nice as the Porsche, but at least there's more room."

"Hey, I'm not the kind of girl who judges a guy according to how cool a car he drives. Although, the Porsche really is cool."

"My Dad is okay about borrowing it. We can use it again someday."

"Great. So, is that enough small talk? Can we get down to why we're here?"

"Yeah, okay. I thought about what you said, and you were partly right. My pride was wounded, and my ego was damaged. But I wasn't keeping you at arm's length because I was embarassed about looking bad with bandages and bruises. I...I was humiliated because I had failed you."

"Failed me? How?"

"When I stood up to Price, you called me your hero. That really puffed up my ego. 'Pride goeth before a fall' is right. When those two guys had me on the ground and were stomping me unconscious, my last thought was of you. I knew you were next, and there was nothing I could do to protect you. Before all of this happened, I use to think of myself as strong and capable, but ever since then, I've hated myself for being so weak."

"Dylan, no. You were very brave, and it's no fault of yours that you lost that fight. It isn't like the movies. Two armed thugs always win over one unarmed guy."

"Except for my Dad. He's 42, but he managed to save you from those two muggers that attacked you. If only I could have done as well."

"That was different. He had the advantage of surprise, and even then he nearly got killed. I really think you can let yourself off the hook on this one."

"I hear what you're saying, and it all makes sense, but still, I can't help but feel that my self-confidence has been through a meat-grinder."

"And I'm sorry I wasn't more sympathetic. Members of my family have been through some pretty traumatic stuff, and I know it takes time to deal with emotions and stuff. Like last spring, I went through...well, that's not important. The point is, I should have been more understanding."

"Wow, you really put on the brakes there. You were about to mention Adam, weren't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"I really admire that about you. The way you refuse to trash talk your ex, and how you've made such an effort to stay friends with him."

"It wasn't easy, but with time we managed to at least salvage our friendship. Did it end badly with your ex?"

"You could say that, and I wasn't even in love with Cindy. In fact, I don't think I much liked her."

"Then why was she your girlfriend?"

"You're the daughter of a detective, see if you can figure this one out. I'm a teenage boy, and she was a hot blonde who liked making out with me."

"Ah, mystery solved."

"At the end of junior year, when Dad dropped the bombshell that we were moving to Arcadia, I had to tell Cindy the news. I didn't expect her to fall apart, but I did expect that she would be a little bit sad. Turns out, Cindy was relieved. She had already hooked-up with some lifeguard, and was looking for a way to let me down easy."

"That's rough. Were you hurt?"

"More annoyed than anything. Anyway, it all worked out."

"How so?"

"I met you."

Joan shyly smiles.

Dylan continues, "You know, we never did get around to seeing that movie. How about you come over after school? We can watch DVDs and snack on junk food."

"Uh, at your house?"

"Oh right, I forgot. You're doing that consult-with-the-school-shrink thing. It's probably a little awkward socializing in his house."

"You could come over to my house, if it's not too awkward being around one of your teachers."

"Not a problem. All Mrs. Girardi knows about me is that I'm mediocre at sketching bowls of fruit."

"She won't bring up school work. She never did with Adam... Oh dang, I shouldn't have said that."

"Not a problem. I've gotten to know Adam, and he's an okay guy. Besides, it's not like he hasn't moved on."

"What do you mean?"

"Him and Glynis. They're a couple, right?"

"I don't think so. She's totally not his type."

"I don't know. I've noticed them doing that heads-together, private-joke, couples thing."

"Huh, they have been hanging together a lot more than they use to."

"Does that bother you?"

"No...no, of course not. We've both moved on, and I'm concentrating on my own love life."

"Speaking of which, I'll bring my AP Biology textbook, and we can pretend to study."

"Just pretend? What will we really be doing?"

"Well, when no one is looking, I intend to steal a kiss."

Dylan leans forward and kisses her.

Joan smiles. "Who knows, I might steal one back."

Joan leans in and kisses him.

"I like the way you think."

Dylan leans forward again, but Joan holds up a hand.

"Easy horndog, we're in a public parking lot."

"Right. Must-maintain-self-control."

"The bell is about to ring. We better go."

They gather up the debris of their lunch and exit the van. Dylan closes the door and they both look to see if they are observed. They share one more kiss. The bell rings, and holding hands, they head for the school.

X X X X X

Later that afternoon at a large storage locker facility, Will's car comes to a stop near a police cruiser. He and Carlisle exit and approach two waiting uniformed officers and a civilan.

"What have we got?" Carlisle asks.

The senior officer replies, "This is Mr. Otto Andersen, the manager. He gave a positive I.D. to the Paul Atwell photo."

Andersen says, "No doubt about it. This guy in the picture rented unit 205 a few months ago."

"Was he alone?" Carlisle asks.

"No. They arrived in an old, white cargo van. The other guy stayed in the van while this Atwell character took care of the paperwork."

Will asks, "Did you get a good look at the other man?"

"Sorry, no. He was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. He seemed like a big guy, but I couldn't pick him out of a line-up or anything like that."

"Did they come here often?"

"I never saw the big guy again, but Atwell stopped by his storage unit every few days."

Carlisle says, "There are security cameras all over this place. Any chance the big guy was caught on tape?"

"He probably was, but after three days, we recycle the tapes."

Carlisle mutters, "We just can't catch a break."

Andersen says, "So what are we waiting for? I've got the pass key."

Will replies, "Thank you Mr. Andersen, but we have to wait for the search warrant. We wouldn't want the bad guys to walk on a technicality."

"Hmph, if you ask me, criminals have too many rights in this country."

Carlisle nods his agreement. Will turns as he hears an approaching car. A Porsche convertible comes to a stop next to him.

"Now this is an unexpected development. Dr. Hunter, what brings you here?"

"I was on my way to my storage locker when I spotted the police car. I became curious and headed this way. If I may ask, what brings the chief of police here?"

"We believe this storage unit was rented by Paul Atwell."

"Indeed? Well then, this could be a big breakthrough. I assume, since you're all standing about, that you are waiting for the bomb squad?"

"No, a search warrant. Our suspects have no prior use of explosives--just some Molotov cocktails. Why would you think we need the bomb squad?"

"I've been fascinated by this case, and have been following it closely in the newspapers. I've seen a clear pattern of escalating violence and lethality. Explosives are the next logical step."

Carlisle says, "No offense, Doc, but our department shrink did a psych profile on our suspects, and he didn't mention any possibility of bomb making."

Dr. Hunter shrugs. "I stand by my analysis. I'd bet my professional reputation that you will find explosives in that unit."

Will asks, "You'd risk your reputation as a psychiatrist?"

"Yes, and that's not a phrase I use lightly."

Will pauses for a beat. "Sergeant, call the bomb squad."

"Chief...really?"

"Let's call it better safe than sorry."

Carlisle walks away talking into his radio. "Unit L-100, requesting additional back-up at our location. Roll the bomb squad."

X X X X X

A short time later in the Girardi kitchen, Helen is putting away groceries, and Luke is helping. Joan enters.

"Hey, I've got a guest coming, so I claim the living room."

Luke responds, "No way. Grace is stopping by and we're going to watch a movie."

Joan groans, "Not one she picked out--they're all depressing tales of oppression in the third world."

"They're socially significant, and yes, a bit depressing. At least they're not the empty-headed teen comedies you like."

"Says the boy who never misses a Three Stooges movie."

"Those are classics."

"Pies in the face and a poke in the eye, and you call my movies empty-headed?"

"Oh yeah? Well..."

Helen laughs. "Children, that's enough. Play nice if you expect to have friends over."

Joan sticks her tongue out at Luke. He reciprocates.

Helen says, "Oh, very mature. Joan, is yguest Dylan? He was back in class today."

"Yes, and speaking of class, please remember, at home you are not a teacher."

"I would never bring up school work to one of your guests. I never did with Adam. Of course Adam was my best student, while Dylan..."

"Mom! This is what I am talking about. Also, ix-nay on the Adam-ay talk. I already made that faux pas today."

"Why, is Dylan the jealous type?"

"I don't know him well enough yet to be sure, and I prefer not to find out by poking the bear."

Luke says, "Oh, a funny poking joke just popped into my head."

Helen asks, "Is it clean?"

"Uh, no."

"Then spare us."

There is a knock at the back door.

"He's here. Will you two try to behave?"

Helen responds, "Since you're only being vaguely insulting, we will try."

Joan goes to the back door and lets in Dylan. He is carrying a textbook and a DVD, and is still using his cane.

"Dylan, hi. Come on in."

"Thanks."

Helen says, "Dylan, welcome."

"Thanks for having me over, Mrs. Girardi."

Luke asks, "What DVD did you bring?"

"Young Frankenstein."

"I love that movie. Did you know the lab equipment used in the dungeon scenes was the same that was used in the original 1931 movie?"

"I just know it's hilarious."

"And it's in black and white, so it will be one that Joan loves."

Joan again sticks her tongue out at Luke.

Helen says, "Dylan, you are welcome to stay for dinner, if you like."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

Luke says, "Oh it's no imposition. Adam Rove used to stay for dinner all the time."

Joan stomps her foot in frustration. "Luke!"

Dylan laughs. "I'll bet you told him not to mention Adam."

"Yeah."

Dylan drops an arm around Luke's shoulder. "But there are few things sweeter in life than bugging your sister."

Luke smiles. "You are very astute."

"Let's go watch a movie."

The three teens head out of the kitchen. The phone rings and Helen answers.

"Hello? Oh, hi Will. What's up?... Oh my God, is everyone okay?"

The three teens reappear in the kitchen, listening intently to Helen's conversation.

"Really? What an odd coincidence. Here's another. Dylan is here... Yes, I'll tell him, and thanks for the heads-up. I wouldn't have wanted to hear this in a news bulletin. I love you too, and please be careful."

Helen hangs up the phone. Joan trembles as she asks...

"Mom, is Dad okay?"

"He's fine, honey. Everyone is fine thanks to Dr. Hunter."

Dylan asks, "What about my Dad?"

"It seems he kept Will and several others from being blown up."

"Wow. Way to go, Dad."

X X X X X

Late that afternoon, Ryan Hunter is in his office reviewing a news story while Kevin waits patiently.

"So, dear brother John is a hero again."

"I know this is a sensitive subject for you, which is why I wanted to run it by you personally. The door to that storage locker was rigged to explode the moment it was opened. There was enough C-4 there to level a city block."

"And John's timely warning saved several lives. You've written this article as if you were John Hunter's press agent."

"He did save my father's life, who is suppose to be a friend of yours."

Ryan sighs. "I know this is difficult for you to understand, especially if you've never experienced the pain of a family destroyed by divorce. It doesn't go away just because you become an adult. Those experiences shape your attitudes and choices for the rest of your life. My relationship with John is set in stone, no matter what."

"Surely two intelligent men can reach a reasonable rapproachment."

"Will told me about his parent's divorce. It seems he has a half-brother?"

"My uncle Richard."

"Are you close to him?"

"I didn't even know he existed until two years ago. He came to visit us one time, but Dad wouldn't speak with him."

"Then perhaps you can see my point?"

"That family's have to work out their problems in their own ways and timing. I'll rewrite the story and delete any reference to Dr. Hunter."

Kevin turns and rolls towards the door.

"Kevin, wait. Perhaps we can compromise. Run the revised story, but also go after an in-depth interview with my brother. See if he will explain how he happened to be in the right place at the right time with the critical information necessary. How did John Hunter know what a trained criminal psychologist couldn't see even with all the information available. Get the answers to those questions, and that's a story I'll print."

Kevin smiles broadly. "You've got a deal."

X X X X X

Late that evening, Joan is in the Girardi back yard, sipping a cup of hot chocolate and dressed in a warm robe. She drifts over to the fence and leans against the wood.

"Are you there?"

John Hunter appears at the fence. He is sipping tea. "Yes, I thought you would come."

"How can I thank you? Especially after I threw down the gauntlet? For a moment, I thought we were at war."

"For a moment, I thought so too. I felt myself getting angry, and I thought: How dare this kid talk to me like that? But then the vision came."

"About my Dad?"

"Yes, it was horrible--so much blood and pain. When the bomb squad disabled the booby trap, I felt so humbled that God could find use for me like that. It also cleared up a mystery. When we first came to Arcadia, God directed me in a dream to rent a storage locker at that facility. We didn't need the extra space, but now it makes sense."

"Thank God you did. Can I ask, did God tell you to put that letter opener in my bag?"

"Yes, in another dream. Whatever became of that?"

"It's in my closet, badly mangled. I used it to flatten a tire on your car."

"Do you know why?"

"To keep Dylan out of a fatal accident."

"Oh... Thank you Lord. Thank you."

There is a momentary awkward pause.

Joan asks, "So what do we do now?"

"Clearly God is showing us that we must find a way to work together. Lives are at stake."

"Is there a middle ground between us?"

"Hopefully. If not, then one of us will have to abandon his position."

"How do we decide that?"

"We obey God."

"It always comes down to that, doesn't it?"

"It always does. Well, it's getting late, and we both have school tomorrow. Goodnight Joan."

"Goodnight Doc. Pleasant dreams."

Joan takes one last sip of her chocolate and heads back to the house.

X X X X X

Much later that night in the master bedroom of the Girardi home, Helen is restless as she dreams. Transition into her dream...

Helen is againin a ballgown and dancing under a moonlit sky. Her dance partner is again a tall, masked military officer. The music ends and Helen lifts her face to her partner...

"Kiss me, my love."

"I don't think so. You're a married woman."

John Hunter removes the mask, revealing his identity. Helen stares at him, confused.

"No, I'm not dreaming about you."

"I iknow who you are dreaming about."

Dr. Hunter turns Helen towards the window. The reflection shows Helen with Ryan Hunter. She turns back, but sees John Hunter is still with her.

"Go away. I want Ryan. He's hot!" she giggles.

Dr. Hunter takes Helen by the shoulders and shakes her. "Snap out of it! You're not dreaming about me, I'm visiting your dream."

"That's silly. Of course I'm dreaming about you. I don't know why, but I am. People can't visit your dreams."

"They can if God arranges it."

"God? Sometimes I dream about him."

"I know, so do I. He's why I am here."

"God sent you into my dream? Why?"

"To tell you to stop this sin."

"What sin?"

Dr. Hunter indicates the reflection.

Helen defensively says, "It's just a dream. I'm not responsible for my dreams, am I?"

"Do you deny bringing the lustfullness of this dream into your marriage bed?"

"It's just a harmless fantasy. I'd never act on it."

"You are not a spiritually immature woman. The standard by which you judge others..."

Helen completes the quotation. "Is the standard by which you will be judged."

"I hear the name...Lucy Preston?"

Helen hangs her head, and for the first time looks ashamed. The scene shifts to the same church from the episode, 'Silence'. Dr. Hunter is now in a business suit, and Helen is dressed in sackcloth. Beside her is a bowl of ashes.

"What am I wearing?" Helen asks.

"Sackcloth. Sorry, I get a bit literal with scriptual matters. You can change it if you like."

Helen closes her eyes for a moment, but when she opens them nothing has changed. "Apparently I can't. Are those ashes?"

"It's a full service dream."

"But why are you doing this? If God wants me to repent, why isn't he here?"

"It can be arranged if you prefer, but do you? Because of his kindness, God sent me since we share the same gift. Would you really prefer the self-esteem shredding experience of having God say to you: You have disappointed me."

Helen trembles and begins to cry--gently at first, and then with deep sobs. She drops to her knees and pours the ashes over her head. She is filthy, and the ashes combine with the tears to leave dirty streaks down her cheeks. Her head lowers...

"Oh God, I've betrayed my husband! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

As she cries, she sees a hand extended to her. She takes the hand and is lifted to her feet. As she rises, she is transformed to sparkling clean, and is back in her beautiful ball gown. John Hunter is gone, and Cute Boy God is holding her hand. There is a single tear left on her cheek. Cute Boy God wipes it away with a finger.

"Don't cry, you are forgiven."

"I...I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted."

"It has. Guilt is a terrible burden to carry. Please don't pick it up again."

"I won't, I promise. May I ask something?"

"Of course."

"Was that really Dr. Hunter?"

"Yes."

"And we share the same gift?"

"Yes, only he hasn't squandered his."

Helen winces at the word 'squandered'. "How do I stop squandering mine?"

"You know."

"Be open to the possibilities?"

"It's all I ask." (Cute Boy God smiles and puts a hand to her cheek.) "Sleep well, Helen."

Helen closes her eyes. Transition back to the bedroom... Helen is holding Will's hand. She sleeps peacefully.

THE END. PLEASE REVIEW.


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